Love's Shadow by Ada Leverson

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Love like a shadow flies When substance love pursues; Pursuing that that flies, And flying what pursues.

SHAKESPEARE

CHAPTER I

Hyacinth

'There's only one thing I must really implore you, Edith,' said Bruceanxiously. '_Don't_ make me late at the office!'

'Certainly not, Bruce,' answered Edith sedately. She was seated oppositeher husband at breakfast in a very new, very small, very white flat inKnightsbridge--exactly like thousands of other new, small, white flats.She was young and pretty, but not obvious. One might suppose that shewas more subtle than was shown by her usual expression, which was merelycheerful and intelligent.

'Now I have to write that letter before I go,' Bruce exclaimed, startingup and looking at her reproachfully. 'Why didn't I write it last night?'

Edith hadn't the slightest idea, as she had heard nothing of the letterbefore, but, in the course of three years, she had learnt that it savedtime to accept trifling injustices. So she looked guilty and a littleremorseful. He magnanimously forgave her, and began to write the letterat a neat white writing-table.

'How many g's are there in "Raggett"?' he asked suspiciously.

She didn't answer, apparently overtaken by a sudden fit of absence ofmind.

'Only one, of course. How absurd you are!' said her husband, laughing,as he finished the letter and came back to the table.

She poured out more coffee.

'It's a curious thing,' he went on in a tone of impartial regret, 'that,with all the fuss about modern culture and higher education nowadays,girls are not even taught to spell!'

'Yes, isn't it? But even if I had been taught, it might not have beenmuch use. I might just not have been taught to spell "Raggett". It's aname, isn't it?'

'It's a very well-known name,' said Bruce.

'I daresay it is, but I don't know it. Would you like to see the boybefore you go?'

'What a question! I always like to see the boy. But you know perfectlywell I haven't time this morning.'

'Very well, dear. You can see him this afternoon.'

'Why do you say that? You know I'm going golfing with Goldthorpe! Itreally is hard, Edith, when a man has to work so much that he hasscarcely any time for his wife and child.'

She looked sympathetic.

'What are you doing today?' he asked.

'Hyacinth's coming to fetch me for a drive in the motor.'

His face brightened. He said kindly, 'I _am_ so glad, darling, that youhave such a delightful friend--when I can't be with you. I admireHyacinth very much, in every way. She seems devoted to you, too, whichis really very nice of her. What I mean to say is, that in her positionshe might know anybody. You see my point?'

'Quite.'

'How did you meet her originally?'

'We were school-friends.'

'She's such a lovely creature; I wonder she doesn't marry.'

'Yes, but she has to find someone else whom _she_ thinks a lovelycreature, too.'

She tried to look serious, and said gently, 'Is it, really? I am sorry.'

'You don't mind me telling you of it, do you?'

'Not at all. I'm afraid you will be late, Bruce.'

He started up and hurried away, reminding Edith that dinner was to be ateight. They parted with affectionate smiles.

When he had gone down in the lift, Edith took an inextensive walkthrough the entire flat, going into each room, and looking at herself inevery looking-glass. She appeared to like herself best in thedining-room mirror, for she returned, stared into it rather gravely forsome little time, and then said to herself: 'Yes, I'm beginning tolook bored.'

Then she rang the bell, and the nurse brought in a pretty little boy ofnearly two, Huffily dressed in white, who was excited at the prospect ofhis great morning treat--going down in the lift. Speaking of him withsome formality as Master Archie, she asked the nurse a few questions,which she mistakenly supposed gave that personage the impression thatshe knew all that there was to be known about children. When she wasalone with him for a minute she rushed at him impulsively, saying,privately, 'Heavenly pet! Divine angel! Duck!' in return for which hepulled her hair down and scratched her face with a small empty Noah'sArk that he was taking out with him for purposes of his own.

When he had gone she did her hair up again in a different way--parted inthe middle. It was very pretty, wavy, fair hair, and she had small,regular features, so the new way suited her very well. Then shesaid again--

'Yes, if it were not for Hyacinth I should soon look bored to death!'

Hyacinth Verney was the romance of Edith's life. She also provided agood deal of romance in the lives of several other people. Her positionwas unusual, and her personality fascinating. She had no parents, was anheiress, and lived alone with a companion in a quaint little house justout of Berkeley Square, with a large studio, that was never used forpainting. She had such an extraordinary natural gift for making peopleof both sexes fond of her, that it would have been difficult to saywhich, of all the persons who loved her, showed the most intensedevotion in the most immoderate way. Probably her cousin and guardian,Sir Charles Cannon, and her companion, Anne Yeo, spent more thought andtime in her service than did anybody else. Edith's imagination had beenfired in their school-days by her friend's beauty and cleverness, and bythe fact that she had a guardian, like a book. Then Hyacinth had comeout and gone in for music, for painting, and for various other arts andpursuits of an absorbing character. She had hardly any acquaintancesexcept her relations, but possessed an enormously large number ofextremely intimate friends--a characteristic that had remained to herfrom her childhood.

Hyacinth's ideal of society was to have no padding, so that most of themembers of her circle were types. Still, as she had a perfect passionfor entertaining, there remained, of course, a residue; distant elderlyconnections with well-sounding names (as ballast), and a few vaguehangers-on; several rather dull celebrities, some merely pretty andwell-dressed women, and a steadily increasing number of good-lookingyoung men. Hyacinth was fond of decoration.

As she frankly admitted, she had rather fallen back on Edith, findingher, after many experiments, the most agreeable of friends, chieflybecause in their intercourses everything was always taken for granted.Like sisters, they understood one another without explanation--_àdemi-mot_.

While Edith waited impatiently in the hall of the flat, Anne Yeo, herunacknowledged rival in Hyacinth's affections, was doing needlework inthe window-seat of the studio, and watching Hyacinth, who, dressed to goout, was walking up and down the room. With a rather wooden face, highcheek-bones, a tall, thin figure, and no expression, Anne might havebeen any age; but she was not. She made every effort to look quite fortyso as to appear more suitable as a chaperone, but was in reality barelythirty. She was thinking, as she often thought, that Hyacinth looked tooromantic for everyday life. When they had travelled together this facthad been rather a nuisance.

'Why, when you call at the Stores to order groceries, must you look asif you were going to elope?' she asked dryly. 'In an ordinary motorveilyou have the air of hastening to some mysterious appointment.'

'But I'm only going to fetch Edith Ottley for a drive,' said Hyacinth.'How bored she must get with her little Foreign Office clerk! The way hetakes his authority as a husband seriously is pathetic. He hasn't thefaintest idea the girl is cleverer than he is.'

'You'd far better leave her alone, and not point it out,' said Anne.'You're always bothering about these little Ottleys now. But you've beenvery restless lately. Whenever you try to do people good, and especiallywhen you motor so much and so fast, I recognise the symptoms. It'scoming on again, and you're trying to get away from it.'

'You don't know it, but when you're not in love you're not yourself,'Anne continued. 'It's all you live for.'

'Oh, Anne!'

'It's quite true. It's nearly three months since you--had an attack.Blair was the last. Now you're beginning to take the same sort ofinterest in Cecil Reeve.'

'How mistaken you are, Anne! I don't take at all the same interest inhim. It's a totally different thing. I don't really even like him.'

'You wouldn't go out today if you were expecting him.'

'Yes, but I'm not ... and he doesn't care two straws about me. Once hesaid he never worshipped in a crowded temple!'

'It's a curious coincidence that ever since then you've been out toeveryone else,' said Anne.

'I don't really like him--so very much. When he _does_ smile, of courseit's rather nice. Why does he hate me?'

'I can't think,' said Anne.

'He doesn't hate me! How can you say so?' cried Hyacinth.

'Doesn't he?'

'Perhaps it's because he thinks I look Spanish. He may disapprove oflooking Spanish,' suggested Hyacinth.

'Very likely.'

Hyacinth laughed, kissed her, and went out. Anne followed her gracefulfigure with disapproving, admiring eyes.

CHAPTER II

The Anxieties of Sir Charles

Like all really uncommon beauties, Hyacinth could only be adequatelydescribed by the most hackneyed phrases. Her eyes were authenticallysapphire-coloured; brilliant, frank eyes, with a subtle mischief inthem, softened by the most conciliating long eyelashes. Then, her mouthwas really shaped like a Cupid's bow, and her teeth _were_ dazzling;also she had a wealth of dense, soft, brown hair and a tall, sylphlike,slimly-rounded figure. Her features were delicately regular, and herhands and feet perfection. Her complexion was extremely fair, so she wasnot a brunette; some remote Spanish ancestor on her mother's side was,however, occasionally mentioned as an apology for a type and a supplegrace sometimes complained of by people with white eyelashes as ratherun-English. So many artistic young men had told her she was like LaGioconda, that when she first saw the original in the Louvre she was sodisappointed that she thought she would never smile again.

About ten minutes after the pretty creature had gone out, Anne, who hadkept her eyes steadily on the clock, looked out of the window, fromwhich she could see a small brougham driving up. She called out intothe hall--

'If that's Sir Charles Cannon, tell him Miss Verney is out, but I have amessage for him.'

A minute later there entered a thin and distinguished-looking,grey-haired man of about forty-five, wearing a smile of such excessivecordiality that one felt it could only have been brought to hiswell-bred lips by acute disappointment. Anne did not take the smileliterally, but began to explain away the blow.

'I'm so sorry,' she said apologetically. 'I'm afraid it's partly myfault. When she suddenly decided to go out with that little Mrs Ottley,she told me vaguely to telephone to you. But how on earth could I knowwhere you were?'

'How indeed? It doesn't matter in the least, my dear Miss Yeo. I mean,it's most unfortunate, as I've just a little free time. Lady Cannon'sgone to a matinée at the St James's. We had tickets for the first night,but of course she wouldn't use them then. She preferred to go alone inthe afternoon, because she detests the theatre, anyhow, and afternoonperformances give her a headache. And if she does a thing that'sdisagreeable to her, she likes to do it in the most painful possibleway. She has a beautiful nature.'

Anne smiled, and passed him a little gold box.

'Have a cigarette?' she suggested.

'Thanks--I'm not really in a bad temper. But why this relapse ofdevotion to little Mrs Ottley? And why are you and I suddenly treatedwith marked neglect?'

'Mrs Ottley,' said Anne, 'is one of those young women, rather bored withtheir husbands, who are the worst possible companions for Hyacinth. Theyput her off marrying.'

'Yes; of course, she's not a dull old maid over forty, like me,' saidAnne.

'No-one would believe that description of you,' said Sir Charles, with abow that was courtly but absent. As a matter of fact, he did believe it,but it wasn't true.

'If dear little Mrs Ottley,' he continued, 'married in too great ahurry, far be it from me to reproach her. I married in a hurrymyself--when Hyacinth was ten.'

'And when she was eighteen you were very sorry,' said Anne in hercolourless voice.

'Don't let us go into that, Miss Yeo. Of course, Hyacinth is abeautiful--responsibility. People seem to think she ought to have goneon living with us when she left school. But how was it possible?Hyacinth said she intended to live for her art, and Lady Cannon couldn'tstand the scent of oils.' He glanced round the large panelled-oak roomin which not a picture was to be seen. The only indication of its havingever been meant for a studio was the north light, carefully obstructed(on the grounds of unbecomingness) by gently-tinted draperies of somefabric suggesting Liberty's. 'Life wasn't worth living, trying to keepthe peace!'

'But you must have missed her?'

'Still, I prefer coming to see her here. And knowing she has you withher is, after all, everything.'

He looked a question.

'Yes, she has. I mean, she seems rather--absorbed again lately,' saidAnne.

'Who is it?' he asked. 'I always feel so indiscreet and treacheroustalking over her private affairs like this with you, though she tells meeverything herself. I'm not sure it's the act of a simple, loyal,Christian English gentleman; in fact, I'm pretty certain it's not. Isuppose that's why I enjoy it so much.'

'I daresay,' said Anne; 'but she wouldn't mind it.'

'What has been happening?'

'Nothing interesting. Hazel Kerr came here the other day and broughtwith him a poem in bronze lacquer, as he called it. He read italoud--the whole of it.'

'Good heavens! Poetry! Do people still do that sort of thing? I thoughtit had gone out years ago--when I was a young man.'

'Of course, so it has. But Hazel Kerr is out of date. Hyacinth says he'salmost a classic.'

'His verses?'

'Oh no! His method. She says he's an interesting survival--he's walkedstraight out of another age--the nineties, you know. There were poets inthose days.'

'Method! He was much too young then to have a style at all, surely!'

'That _was_ the style. It was the right thing to be very young in thenineties. It isn't now.'

'It's not so easy now, for some of us,' murmured Sir Charles.

'But Hazel keeps it up,' Anne answered.

Sir Charles laughed irritably. 'He keeps it up, does he? But he sitspeople out openly, that shows he's not really dangerous. One doesn'tworry about Hazel. It's that young man who arrives when everybody'sgoing, or goes before anyone else arrives, that's what I'm a littleanxious about.'

'If you mean Cecil Reeve, Hyacinth says he doesn't like her.'

'I'm sorry to hear that. If anything will interest her, that will. Yet Idon't know why I should mind. At any rate, he certainly isn't trying tomarry her for interested reasons, as he's very well off--or perhaps forany reasons. I'm told he's clever, too.'

'His appearance is not against him either,' said Anne dryly; 'so what'sthe matter with him?'

'I don't know exactly. I think he's capable of playing with her.'

'Perhaps he doesn't really appreciate her,' suggested Anne.

'Oh, yes, he does. He's a connoisseur--confound him! He appreciates herall right. But it's all for himself--not for her. By the way, I've heardhis name mentioned with another woman's name. But I happen to knowthere's nothing in it.'

'Would you really like her to marry soon?' Anne asked.

'In her position it would be better, I suppose,' said her guardian, withobvious distaste to the idea.

'Has there ever been anyone that you thoroughly approved of?' askedAnne.

He shook his head.

'I rather doubt if there ever will be,' Anne said.

'She's so clever, so impulsive! She lives so much on her emotions. Ifshe were disappointed--in that way--it would mean so much to her,' SirCharles said.

'She does change rather often,' said Anne.

'Of course, she's never really known her own mind.' He took a letter outof his pocket. 'I came partly to show her a letter from Ella--my girl atschool in Paris, you know. Hyacinth is so kind to her. She writes to mevery confidentially. I hope she's being properly brought up!'

'Let me read it.'

She read--

'DARLING PAPA,

'I'm having heavenly fun at school. Last night there was a ball forMadame's birthday. A proper grown-up ball, and we all danced. The menweren't bad. I had a lovely Easter egg, a chocolate egg, and inside thatanother egg with chocolate in it, and inside that another egg with adear little turquoise charm in it. One man said I was a blonde anglaise,and had a keepsake face; and another has taken the Prix de Rome, and isgoing to be a schoolmaster. There were no real ices. Come over and seeme soon. It's such a long time to the holidays. Love to mother.

'Your loving,

'ELLA.'

'A curious letter--for her age,' said Ella's father, replacing it. 'Iwish she were here. It seems a pity Lady Cannon can't stand the noise ofpractising--and so on. Well, perhaps it's for the best.' He got up.'Miss Yeo, I must go and fetch Lady Cannon now, but I'll come back athalf-past six for a few minutes--on my way to the club.'

'She's sure to be here then,' replied Anne consolingly; 'and do persuadeher not to waste all her time being kind to Edith Ottley. It can't doany good. She'd better leave them alone.'

'Really, it's a very innocent amusement. I think you're overanxious.'

'It's only that I'm afraid she might get mixed up in--well, somedomestic row.'

'Surely it can't be as bad as that! Why--is Mr Ottley in love with her?'he asked, smiling.

'Very much indeed,' said Anne.

'Oh, really, Miss Yeo!--and does Mrs Ottley know it?'

'No, nor Hyacinth either. He doesn't know it himself.'

'Then if nobody knows it, it can't matter very much,' said Sir Charles,feeling vaguely uncomfortable all the same. Before he went he took up aportrait of Hyacinth in an Empire dress with laurel leaves in her hair.It was a beautiful portrait. Anne thought that from the way he looked atit, anyone could have guessed Lady Cannon had tight lips and wore aroyal fringe.... They parted with great friendliness.

Anne's wooden, inexpressive countenance was a great comfort to SirCharles, in some moods. Though she was clever enough, she did not havethat superfluity of sympathy and responsiveness that makes one go awayregretting one has said so much, and disliking the other person forone's expansion. One never felt that she had understood too accurately,nor that one had given oneself away, nor been indiscreetly curious....It was like talking to a chair. What a good sort Anne was!

CHAPTER III

Anne Yeo

'Would you like me to play to you a little?' Anne asked, when Hyacinthhad returned and was sitting in the carved-oak chimney-corner, lookingthoughtful and picturesque.

'No-one can speak of me as "that pleasant, cultivated creature who liveswith Miss Verney," can they?'

'Not, at any rate, if they have any regard for truth,' said Hyacinth.

'I wish you wouldn't make me laugh. Why should I have a sense of humour?I sometimes think that all your friends imagine it's part of my duty toshriek with laughter at their wretched jokes. It wasn't in the contract.If I were pretty, my ambition would have been to be an adventuress; butan adventuress with no adventures would be a little flat. I might havethe worst intentions, but I should never have the chance of carryingthem out. So I try to be as much as possible like Thackeray's shabbycompanion in a dyed silk.'

'Is that why you wear a sackcloth blouse trimmed with ashes?' saidHyacinth, with curiosity.

'No, that's merely stinginess. It's my nature to be morbidly economical,though I know I needn't be. If I hadn't had £500 a year left me, Ishould never have been able to come and live here, and drop all myhorrid relations. I enjoy appearing dependent and being a spectator, andI've absolutely given up all interest in my own affairs. In fact, Ihaven't got any. And I take the keenest interest in otherpeople's--romances. Principally, of course, in yours.'

'I'm sure I don't want you to be so vicarious as all that--thanksawfully,' said Hyacinth. 'At any rate, don't dress like a skeleton atthe feast tomorrow, if you don't mind. I've asked the little Ottleys todinner--and, I want Charles to come.'

'Oh, of course, if you expect Cecil Reeve!--I suppose you do, as youhaven't mentioned it--I'll put on my real clothes to do you credit.' Shelooked out of the window. 'Here's poor old Charles again. How he doesdislike Lady Cannon!'

'What a shame, Anne! He's angelic to her.'

'That's what I meant,' said Anne, going out quickly.

'Charles, how nice of you to call and return your own visit the sameday! It's like Royalty, isn't it? It reminds me of the young man who wasasked to call again, and came back in half an hour,' said Hyacinth.

'I didn't quite see my way to waiting till Monday,' he answered. 'We'regoing away the end of the week. Janet says she needs a change.'

'It would be more of a change if you remained in town alone; at least,without Aunty.'

From the age of ten Hyacinth had resented having to call Lady Cannon bythis endearing name. How a perfect stranger, by marrying her cousin,could become her aunt, was a mystery that she refused even to try tosolve. It was well meant, no doubt; it was supposed to make her feelmore at home--less of an orphan. But though she was obedient on thispoint, nothing would ever induce her to call her cousin by anything buthis Christian name, with no qualification. Instinctively she felt thatto call them 'Charles and Aunty', while annoying the intruder, kept herguardian in his proper place. What that was she did not specify.

'Well, can't you stay in London and come here, and be confided in andconsulted? You know you like that better than boring yourself to deathat Redlands.'

'Never mind that. How did you enjoy your drive?'

'Immensely, and I've asked both the little Ottleys to come to dinnertomorrow--one of those impulsive, unconsidered invitations that oneregrets the second after. I must make up a little party. Will you come?'

'Perhaps, if I arranged to follow Janet to Redlands the next day, Imight. Who did you say was the other man?'

'I expect Cecil Reeve,' she said. 'Don't put on that air of marblearchness, Charles. It doesn't suit you at all. Tell me somethingabout him.'

'I can't stand him. That's all I know about him,' said Sir Charles.

'Oh, is that all? That's just jealousy, Charles.'

'Absurd! How can a married man, in your father's place, a hundred yearsolder than you, be jealous?'

'It is wonderful, isn't it?' she said. 'But you must know somethingabout him. You know everyone.'

'He's Lord Selsey's nephew--and his heir--if Selsey doesn't marry again.He's only a young man about town--the sort of good-looking ass that yoursex admires.'

'Charles, what a brute you are! He's very clever.'

'My dear child, yes--as a matter of fact, I believe he is. Isn't he evergoing to _do_ something?'

'What can it matter about me?' he answered. 'Why are you never satisfiedunless I'm in love with the same people that you are?'

'Charles!' she exclaimed, standing up. 'Don't you understand that not aword, not a look has passed to suggest such a thing? I never metanyone so--'

'So cautious?'

'No, so listless, and so respectful; and yet so amusing.... But I'mpretty certain that he hates me. I wish I knew why.'

'And you hate him just as much, of course?'

'No, sometimes I don't. And then I want you to agree with me. No-onesympathises really so well as you, Charles.'

'Not even Miss Yeo?'

'No, I get on so well with Anne because she doesn't She's alwaysinterested, but I prefer her never to agree with me, as she lives here.It would be enervating to have someone always there and perpetuallysympathetic. Anne is a tonic.'

'You need a little opposition to keep you up,' said Sir Charles.

'Didn't I once hear something about his being devoted to someone? Wasn'tthere a report that he was going to be married to a Mrs. Raymond?'

'I believe it was once contradicted in the _Morning Post_ that he wasengaged to her,' said Sir Charles. 'But I'm sure there's no truth in it.I know her.'

'No truth in the report? Or the contradiction?'

'In either. In anything.'

'So you know her. What's she like?' Hyacinth asked anxiously.

'Oh, a dear, charming creature--you'd like her; but not pretty, noryoung. About my age,' he said.

'Oh, I see! _That's_ all right, then!' She clapped her hands.

'Well, I must go. I'll arrange to turn up to dinner tomorrow.' He tookhis hat, looking rather depressed.

'And try to make him like me!' she commanded, as Sir Charles took leave.

CHAPTER IV

The Sound Sense of Lady Cannon

Lady Cannon had never been seen after half-past seven except in eveningdress, generally a velvet dress of some dark crimson or bottle-green, sotightly-fitting as to give her an appearance of being rather upholsteredthan clothed. Her cloaks were always like well-hung curtains, her trainslike heavy carpets; one might fancy that she got her gowns from Gillows.Her pearl dog-collar, her diamond ear-rings, her dark red fringe and theother details of her toilette were put on with the same precision whenshe dined alone with Sir Charles as if she were going to a ceremoniousreception. She was a very tall, fine-looking woman. In Paris, where shesometimes went to see Ella at school, she attracted much publicattention as _une femme superbe_. Frenchmen were heard to remark to oneanother that her husband _ne devrait pas s'embêter_ (which, as a matterof fact, was precisely what he did--to extinction); and even in thestreets when she walked out the gamins used to exclaim, '_Voilà l'Arc deTriomphe qui se promène!_'--to her intense fury and gratification. Shewas still handsome, with hard, wide-open blue eyes, and straightfeatures. She always held her head as if she were being photographed ina tiara _en profil perdu_. It was in this attitude that she had oftenbeen photographed and was now most usually seen; and it seemed socharacteristic that even her husband, if he accidentally caught aglimpse of her full-face, hastily altered his position to one whence hecould behold her at right angles.

As she grew older, the profile in the photographs had become more andmore _perdu_; the last one showed chiefly the back of her head, besidesa basket of flowers, and a double staircase, leading (one hoped) atleast to one of the upper rooms in Buckingham Palace.

Lady Cannon had a very exalted opinion of her own charms, virtues,brilliant gifts, and, above all, of her sound sense. Fortunately forher, she had married a man of extraordinary amiability, who had alwaystaken every possible precaution to prevent her discovering that in thisopinion she was practically alone in the world.

Having become engaged to her through a slight misunderstanding in acountry house, Sir Charles had not had the courage to explain away themistake. He decided to make the best of it, and did so the more easilyas it was one of those so-called suitable matches that the friends andacquaintances of both parties approve of and desire far more than theparties concerned. A sensible woman was surely required at Redlands andin the London house, especially as Sir Charles had been left guardianand trustee to a pretty little heiress.

It had taken him a very short time to find out that the reputation forsound sense was, like most traditions, founded on a myth, and that ifhis wife's vanity was only equalled by her egotism, her most remarkablecharacteristic was her excessive silliness. But she loved him, and hekept his discovery to himself.

'Twenty-five minutes to eight!' she exclaimed, holding out a littlejewelled watch, as Sir Charles came in after his visit to Hyacinth. 'Andwe have a new cook, and I specially, _most_ specially told her to havedinner ready punctually at half-past seven! This world is indeed a placeof trial!'

Sir Charles's natural air of command seemed to disappear in the presenceof Lady Cannon. He murmured a graceful apology, saying he would notdress. Nothing annoyed, even shocked her more than to see her husbanddining opposite her in a frock-coat. However, of two evils she chose theless. They went in to dinner.

'I haven't had the opportunity yet of telling you my opinion of the playthis afternoon,' she said. 'I found it interesting, and I wonder Ihadn't seen it before.'

'You sent back our stalls for the first night,' remarked Sir Charles.

'Certainly I did. I dislike seeing a play until I have seen in thepapers whether it is a success or not.'

'Those newspaper fellows aren't always right,' said Sir Charles.

'Perhaps not, but at least they can tell you whether the thing is asuccess. I should be very sorry to be seen at a failure. Verysorry indeed.'

She paused, and then went on--

'_James Wade's Trouble_ has been performed three hundred times, so itmust be clever. In my opinion, it must have done an immense amount ofharm--good, I mean. A play like that, so full of noble sentiments andhigh principles, is--to me--as good as a sermon!'

'I suppose it was the club, as usual, that made you late. Do you know, Ihave a great objection to clubs.'

He nodded sympathetically.

'That is to say, I thoroughly approve of your belonging to several. I'mquite aware that in your position it's the right thing to do, but Ican't understand why you should ever go to them, having two houses ofyour own. And that reminds me, we are going down to Redlands tomorrow,are we not? I've had a little' (she lowered her voice) 'lumbago; a merepassing touch, that's all--and the change will cure me. I think youneglect Redlands, Charles. You seem to me to regard yourresponsibilities as a landowner with indifference bordering on aversion.You never seem amused down there--unless we have friends.'

'We'll go tomorrow if you like,' said he.

'That's satisfactory.'

'I can easily put off the Duke,' he said thoughtfully, as he poured outmore wine.

She sprang up like a startled hare.

'Put off the ... what are you talking about?'

'Oh, nothing. The Duke of St Leonard's is giving a dinner at the clubtomorrow, and I was going. But I can arrange to get out of it.'

'Charles! I never heard of anything so absurd! You must certainly go tothe dinner. How like you! How casual of you! For a mere trifle to offendthe man who might be of the greatest use to you--politically.'

'Politically! What do you mean? And it isn't a trifle when you've setyour mind on going away tomorrow. I know you hate to change yourplans, my dear.'

'Certainly I do, but I shall not change my plans. I shall go downtomorrow, and you can join me on Friday.'

'Oh, I don't think I'll do that,' said Sir Charles, ratherhalf-heartedly. 'Why should you take the journey alone?'

'But I shall not be alone. I shall have Danvers with me. You need haveno anxiety. I beg of you, I _insist_, that you stay, and go tothis dinner.'

'Well, of course, if you make a point of it--'

She smiled, well pleased at having got her own way, as she supposed.

'That's right, Charles. Then you'll come down on Friday.'

'By the early train,' said Sir Charles.

'No, I should suggest your coming by the later train. It's moreconvenient to meet you at the station.'

'Very well--as you like,' said he, inwardly a little astonished, asalways, at the easy working of the simple old plan, suggesting what onedoes not wish to do in order to be persuaded into what one does.

'And, by the way, I haven't heard you speak of Hyacinth lately. You hadbetter go and see her. A little while ago you were always wasting yourtime about her, and I spoke to you about it, Charles--I think?'

'I think you did,' said he.

'But, though at one time I was growing simply tired of her name, Ididn't mean that you need not look after her at _all_. Go and see her,and explain to her I can't possibly accompany you. Tell her I've gotchronic lumbago very badly indeed, and I'm obliged to go to the country,but I shall certainly make a point of calling on her when I return. Youwon't forget, Charles?'

'Certainly not.'

'I should go oftener,' she continued apologetically, 'but I have such agreat dislike to that companion of hers. I think Miss Yeo a mostunpleasant person.'

'She isn't really,' said Sir Charles.

'I do wish we could get Hyacinth married,' said Lady Cannon. 'I knowwhat a relief it would be to you, and it seems to me such an unheard-ofthing for a young girl like that to be living practically alone!'

'We've been through that before, Janet. Remember, there was nothing elseto do unless she continued to live with us. And as your nerves can'teven stand Ella--'

Lady Cannon dropped the point.

'Well, we must get her married,' she said again. 'What a good thing Ellais still so young! Girls are a dreadful responsibility,' and she sweptgraciously from the dining-room.

Sir Charles took out an irritating little notebook of red leather, thesort of thing that is advertised when lost as 'of no value to anyone butthe owner.' It was full of mysterious little marks and unintelligiblelittle notes. He put down, in cabalistic signs, '_Hyacinth's dinner,eight o'clock._' He enjoyed writing her name, even in hieroglyphics.

CHAPTER V

A Proposal

'I say, Eugenia.'

'Well, Cecil?'

'Look here, Eugenia.'

'What is it, Cecil?'

'Will you marry me?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Will you many me, Eugenia?'

'_What_?'

'You heard what I said. I asked you to marry me. Will you?'

'_Certainly_ not! Most decidedly not! How can you ask such a ridiculousquestion!'

The lady who thus scornfully rejected a proposal was no longer young,and had never been beautiful. In what exactly her attraction consistedwas perhaps a mystery to many of those who found themselves under thecharm. Her voice and smile were very agreeable, and she had a gracefulfigure. If she looked nearly ten years younger than her age (which wasforty-four), this was in no way owing to any artificial aid, but to akind of brilliant vitality, not a bouncing mature liveliness, but avivid, intense, humorous interest in life that was and would alwaysremain absolutely fresh. She was naturalness itself, and seemedunconscious or careless of her appearance. Nor did she have thatwell-preserved air of so many modern women who seem younger than theiryears, but seemed merely clever, amiable, very unaffected, and ratherill. She had long, veiled-looking brown eyes, turned up at the corners,which gave to her glance an amusing slyness. It was a very misleadingphysiognomical effect, for she was really unusually frank. She wore adull grey dress that was neither artistic, becoming, nor smart. In fact,she was too charming to be dowdy, and too careless to be chic; she mighthave been a great celebrity.

The young man who made the suggestion above recorded was fair andclean-shaven, tall and well-made, with clear-cut feature; in fact, hewas very good-looking--good-looking as almost only an Englishman can be.Under a reserved, dandified manner, he tried unsuccessfully to concealthe fact that he was too intelligent for his type. He did not, however,quite attain his standard of entire expressionlessness; and his bright,light-blue eyes and fully-curved lips showed the generous and emotionalnature of their owner. At this moment he seemed very much out of temper.

They were sitting in a dismal little drawing-room in one of the smallesthouses in a dreary street in Belgravia. The room was crowded withdateless, unmeaning furniture, and disfigured by muddled, mistakendecoration. Its designer, probably, had meant well, but had been veryfar from carrying out his meaning. There were too many things in theroom, and most of them were wrong. It would be unjust, however, tosuppose Mrs Raymond did not know this. Want of means, and indifference,or perhaps perverseness, had caused her to leave the house unchangedsince his death as a sort of monument to poor Colonel Raymond'serring taste.

'You might just as well marry me as not,' said Cecil, in his levelvoice, but with pleading eyes. He made the gesture of trying to take herhand, but she took hers away.

'You are very pressing, Cecil, but I think not. You know perfectlywell--I'm sure I make no secret of it--that I'm ten years older thanyou. Old enough to be your mother! Am I the sort of person who wouldtake advantage of the fancy of a gilded youth? And, now I come to thinkof it, your proposal's quite insulting. It's treating me like anadventuress! It's implying that you think I _would_ marry you!Apologise, and withdraw it at once, or I'll never speak to you again.'

'This is nonsense. To begin with,' said Cecil, 'I may be a littlegilded--not so very--but I'm far from being a youth. I'm thirty-four.'

'Yes, I know! That's just the absurd part,' she answered inconsequently.'It's not as if you were a mere boy and didn't know better! And you knowhow I _hate_ this sort of thing.'

'I know you do, and very likely I wouldn't have worried about marryingat all if you had been nicer to me--in other ways. You see, you broughtit on yourself!'

'What _do_ you mean? I _am_ nice. Don't you come here whenever youlike--or nearly? Didn't I dine with you once--a year or two ago? Iforget, but I think I did.'

'You never did,' he answered sharply.

'Then it must have been with somebody else. Of course I didn't. Ishouldn't dream of such a thing.'

'Someone else! Yes, of course; that's it. Well, I want you to marry me,Eugenia, because I want to get you away from everyone else. You seemy point?'

She laughed. 'Oh, jealousy! That's the last straw. Do you know thatyou're a nuisance, Cecil?'

'Because I love you?' he said, trying to look into her sly Japaneseeyes.

She avoided his glance.

'Because you keep on bothering. Always writing, always telephoning,always calling! As soon as I've disposed of _one_ invitation or excuseto meet, you invent another. But this last idea is quite tooexasperating.' She spoke more gently. 'Don't you know, Cecil, that I'vebeen a widow for years? Would I be so ridiculous as to marry again? Why,the one thing I can't stand is being interfered with! I prefer, farprefer, being poor and alone to that. Now what I want you to do is tomarry someone else. I have an idea who I should like it to be, but Iwon't talk about it now. It's the most charming girl in the world. Ishan't tell you her name, that would be tactless. It's that lovely MissVerney, of course. She's much too good for you--an heiress, a beauty,and an orphan! But she's wonderful; and she really deserves you.'

He stopped her.

'How heartless you are!' he said admiringly.

'Really not, Cecil. I'm very fond of you. I'd be your best friend ifyou'd let me, but I shan't speak to you again or receive you at allunless you promise not to repeat that nonsense about marrying. I knowhow horridly obstinate you are! Please remember it's out of thequestion.'

At this moment the servant brought in a letter to Mrs Raymond. As sheread it, Cecil thought she changed colour.

'It's only a line from Sir Charles Cannon,' she said.

'What's he writing about?'

'Really, Cecil! What right have you to ask? I certainly shan't say. It'sabout his ward, if you must know. And now I think you'd better go, ifyou will make these violent scenes.'

'Yes, do try--not to come, I mean. And will you do everything I tellyou?'

'I suppose it will please you if I dine with Hyacinth Verney thisevening? She asked me yesterday. I said I was half-engaged, but wouldlet her know.'

'Yes, it _would_ please me very much indeed,' said Mrs Raymond. 'Pleasedo it, and try to know her better. She's sweet. I don't know her, but--'

'All right. If you'll be nice to me. Will you?'

She was reading the letter again, and did not answer when he saidgood-bye and left the room.

CHAPTER VI

The Little Ottleys

'Edith, I want you to look nice tonight, dear; what are you going towear?'

'My Other Dress,' said Edith.

'Is it all right?'

'It ought to be. Would you like to know what I've done to it? I've cutthe point into a square, and taken four yards out of the skirt; thechiffon off my wedding-dress has been made into kimono sleeves; then I'mgoing to wear my wedding-veil as a sort of scarf thrown carelessly overthe shoulders; and I've turned the pointed waist-band round, so thatit's quite _right_ and short-waisted at the back now, and--'

'Oh, don't tell me the horrible details! I think you might take a littleinterest in _me_. I thought of wearing a buttonhole. Though you may haveforgotten it now, before I was a dull old married man, I was supposed todress rather well, Edith.'

'I know you were.'

'I thought I'd wear a white carnation.'

'I should wear two--one each side. It would be more striking.'

'That's right! Make fun of me! I hope you'll be ready in time. They dineat eight, you know.'

'Bruce, you're not going to begin to dress yet, are you? It's only justfour.'

He pretended not to hear, and said peevishly--

'I suppose they don't expect _us_ to ask _them_? I daresay it's wellknown we can't return all the hospitality we receive.'

'I daresay it is.'

'It's awful not having a valet,' said Bruce.

'But it would be more awful if we had,' said Edith. 'Where on earthcould we put him--except in the bathroom?'

He read the paper for a little while, occasionally reading aloudportions of it that she had already read, then complained that she tookno interest in public events.

'What do you think Archie brought home today,' she said to change thesubject, 'in his Noah's Ark? Two snails!' She laughed.

'Revolting! _I_ don't know where he gets his tastes from. Not from _my_family, that I'm quite sure.' He yawned ostentatiously.

'I think I shall have a rest,' Bruce said presently. 'I had a very badnight last night. I scarcely slept at all.'

'Poor boy!' Edith said kindly. She was accustomed to the convention ofBruce's insomnia, and it would never have occurred to her to appearsurprised when he said he hadn't closed his eyes, though she happened toknow there was no cause for anxiety. If he woke up ten minutes before hewas called, he thought he had been awake all night; if he didn't he sawsymptoms of the sleeping sickness.

She arranged cushions on the sofa and pulled the blinds down. A minutelater he turned on the electric light and began to read again. Then heturned it out, pulled up the blinds, and called her back.

'I want to speak to you about my friend Raggett,' he said seriously.'I've asked him to dinner here tomorrow. What shall we have?'

'Oh, Bruce! Let's wait and settle tomorrow.'

'You don't know Raggett, but I think you'll like him. I _think_ youwill. In any case, there's no doubt Raggett's been remarkably decent tome. In fact, he's a very good sort.'

'He's a clever chap in his way. At least, when I say clever, I don'tmean clever in the ordinary sense.'

'Oh, I see,' said Edith.

'He's very amusing,' continued Bruce. 'He said a very funny thing to methe other day. Very funny indeed. It's no use repeating it, becauseunless you knew all the circumstances and the _characters_ of the peoplethat he told the story of, you wouldn't see the point. Perhaps, afterall, I'd better ask him to dine at the club.'

'Oh nonsense, dear, I'm very proud of you,' said Bruce kindly. 'It isn'texactly that.... Mind you, Raggett's quite a man of the world--and yethe _isn't_ a man of the world, if you know what I mean.'

'I see,' said Edith again.

'I can't decide whether to ask him here or not,' said Bruce, walking upand down the room in agitation.

'Well, suppose we leave it till tomorrow. You can make up your mindthen,' she said good-naturedly.

Edith was dressed, when she found Bruce still in the throes of anagitated toilet. Having lost his collar-stud, he sat down and gavehimself up to cold despair.

'You go without me,' he said in a resigned voice. 'Explain thereason--no, don't explain it. Say I've got influenza--but then perhapsthey'll think you ought to look after me, and--'

'Here it is!' said Edith.

In the cab he recovered suddenly, and told her she looked awfullypretty, which cheered her very much. She was feeling rather tired. Shehad spent several hours in the nursery that day, pretending to be a babygiraffe with so much success that Archie had insisted upon countlessencores, until, like all artists who have to repeat the same part toooften, she felt the performance was becoming mechanical.

CHAPTER VII

Hyacinth's Little Dinner

'The little Ottleys,' as they were called (they were a tall,fine-looking couple), found themselves in a small circle of people whowere all most pleasing to the eye, with the single exception of MissYeo. And even she, in a markedly elegant dress of a peculiarly viciousshade of green, had her value in the picture. A little shocked by theharshness of the colour, one's glance turned with relief to Hyacinth, insatin of a blue so pale that it looked like the reflection of the sky inwater. A broad, pale blue ribbon was wound in and out of her brown hairin the Romney fashion. Of course she looked her best. Women always do ifthey wish to please one man when others are there, and she was in theslightly exalted frame of mind that her reflection in the mirror hadnaturally given her.

The faint atmosphere of chaperonage that always hung about Sir Charlesin Hyacinth's house did not interfere with his personal air of enjoyingan escapade, nor with his looking distinguished to the very verge ofabsurdity. As to Cecil, the reaction from his disappointment of theafternoon had made him look more vivid than usual. He was flushedwith failure.

He talked rather irresponsibly, and looked at Hyacinth, his neighbour atdinner, with such obvious appreciation, that her gaiety becameinfectious. In the little panelled dining-room which, like all thehouse, was neither commonplace nor bizarre, but simple anddistinguished, floated an atmosphere of delightful ease and intimacy.

Sir Charles admired the red roses, which Anne declared she had boughtfor two-and-threepence.

'Very ingenious,' said Sir Charles.

'I _am_ ingenious and clever,' said Anne. 'I get my cleverness from myfather, and my economy from my mother. My father's a clergyman, but hiswife was a little country girl--a sort of Merry Peasant; like Schumann'spiece, you know. Peasants are always merry.'

'I fancy that's a myth,' said Cecil. 'If not, I've been singularlyunfortunate, for all the peasants _I_ ever ran across seemed mostdepressed.'

'Of course, if you ran over them!' said Hyacinth.

'But I didn't exactly run over them; I only asked them the way tosomewhere. They _were_ angry! Now I come to think of it, though, theyweren't peasants at all. It was only one man. He was a shepherd. I gotto know him better afterwards, and he was rather a good chap. Shepherdsdon't have a bad time; they just wear ribbons and crooks and dance withshepherdesses, you know.'

'Oh, then _can_ you tell me why a red sky at night is a shepherd'sdelight?' asked Hyacinth. 'Is it because it's a sign of rain, and heneedn't look after the sheep, but can go fast asleep like littleBo-peep--or was it little Boy Blue--if he likes?'

'For you, I'll try to find out; but I'm ashamed to say I know verylittle of natural history--or machinery, or lots of other interestingthings. And, what's far worse, I don't even want to know any more. Ilike to think there are some mysteries left in life.'

'I quite agree with you that it would be rather horrid to know exactlyhow electricity works, and how trains go, and all that sort of thing. Ilike some things just to _happen_. I never broke my dolls to see whatthey were made of. I had them taken away the _moment_ any sawdust beganto come out,' said Hyacinth.

'You were perfectly right, Miss Verney. You're an Idealist; at least,you don't like practical details. But still you take a great interest inother people psychologically. You want to know, I'm sure, just how ashepherd really feels, and why he feels it. I don't even care for that,and I'm not very keen on scenery, or places either, or even things. MyUncle Ted's so frightfully fond of Things. He's a collector, you know,and I don't sympathise a bit. In fact, I hate things.'

'You seem rather difficult to please, Mr Reeve. What do you like?'

'People; at least, some people. Don't you?'

'Do you like people who talk nonsense?'

'Yes, and still more people who listen to it charmingly,' he answered.'I didn't know before tonight that you ever listened to nonsense ortalked it. I always thought you were the person who solves all the HardCases in _Vanity Fair_--under different names.'

'I wonder you didn't think I won all the prizes in the Limericks,' saidHyacinth.

'I have my faults, Miss Verney, but I'm not blasphemous. Will you havean olive?'

She accepted it. He lowered his voice to say--

'How wonderful you're looking tonight!'

'What am I to say to that? I don't think people should make unanswerableremarks at dinner,' she said, trying to look reproving, but turning pinkwith pleasure.

'If people will look adorable at dinner--or anywhere--they must take theconsequences,' said Cecil, under cover of a very animated discussionbetween Bruce and Miss Yeo on sixpenny cab-fares.

Then for a second he felt a remorseful twinge of disloyalty. But thatwas nonsense; wasn't he obeying Mrs Raymond's distinct commands? Nothingwould please her so much....

And to flirt with Hyacinth was not at all a disagreeable task. Hereflected that Eugenia might have asked him to do something a gooddeal harder.

Under the combined influence, then, of duty, pique, and a littlechampagne, he gave way to the curious fascination that Hyacinth hadalways had for him, and she was only too ready to be happy.

He remembered how he had first met her. He had been dragged to theBurlingtons' dance--he loathed all large parties--and, looking drearilyround, he'd been struck by, and asked to be introduced to, Miss Verney.She wasn't Eugenia, of course, and could never, he was sure, be part ofhis life. He thought that Eugenia appealed to his better nature and tohis intellect.

He felt even a little ashamed of the purely sensuous attraction Hyacinthpossessed for him, while he was secretly very proud of being in lovewith Mrs Raymond. Not everyone would appreciate Eugenia! Cecil was stillyoung enough to wish to be different from other people, while desiringstill more, like all Englishmen, to _appear_ as much as possible likeeverybody else.

He did not thoroughly understand Hyacinth; he couldn't quite place her.She was certainly not the colourless _jeune fille_ idealised by theFrench, but she had even less of the hard abruptness of the ordinaryyoung unmarried Englishwoman. She called herself a bachelor girl, buthadn't the touch of the Bohemian that phrase usually seems to imply. Shewas too plastic, too finished. He admired her social dexterity, herperfect harmony with the charming background she had so well arrangedfor herself. Yet, he thought, for such a young girl, only twenty-two,she was too complex, too civilised. Mrs Raymond, for instance, seemedmuch more downright and careless. He was growing somewhat bewilderedbetween his analysis of her character and his admiration for her mouth,an admiration that was rather difficult to keep entirely cool andtheoretical, and that he felt a strong inclination to show in some morepractical manner.... With a sigh he turned to Edith Ottley, his otherneighbour.

As soon as Anne had locked up she removed with the greatest care heremerald dress, which she grudged wearing a second longer than wasnecessary, and put on an extraordinary dressing-gown, of which it washardly too much to say that there was probably not another one exactlylike it in Europe. Hyacinth always said it had been made out of an oldcurtain from the Rev Mr Yeo's library in the Devonshire Rectory, andAnne did not deny it.

She then screwed up her hair into a tight knot, put one small piece ofit into a curling pin, which she then pinned far back on her head (as ifafraid that the effect on the forehead would be too becoming), took offher dainty green shoes, put on an enormous pair of grotesque slippers,carpet slippers (also a relic), and went into Hyacinth's room. Anne madeit a rule every evening to go in for a few minutes to see Hyacinth andtalk against everyone they had seen during the day. She seemed to regardit as a sacred duty, almost like saying her prayers. Hyacinth sometimesprofessed to find this custom a nuisance, but she would certainly havemissed it. Tonight she was smiling happily to herself, and took nonotice of Anne's entrance.

'I suppose you think it went off well,' said Anne aggressively.

'Didn't it?'

'I thought the dinner was ridiculous. A young girl like you asking twoor three friends needn't have a banquet fit for a Colonial Conference.Besides, the cook lost her head. She sent up the same dish twice.'

'Did she? How funny! How was that?'

'Of course, _you_ wouldn't know. She and the kitchenmaid were playingDiabolo till the last minute in the housekeeper's room. However, youneedn't worry; nobody noticed it.'

'That's all right. Didn't Edith look pretty?'

Anne poked the fire spitefully.

'Like the outside of a cheap chocolate-box.'

'Oh, Anne, what nonsense! Bruce seemed irritable, and fatuous. I didn'tenvy Edith going back with him.'

'Bruce was jealous of Cecil Reeve, of course. You hardly looked atanybody else.'

'Anne, really tonight there were one or two little things that made methink he is beginning to like me. I don't say he's perfect; I daresay hehas his faults. But there's something I like about his face. I wonderwhat it is.'

'I know what it is, he's very good-looking,' said Anne.

'Do you think he cares for me?'

'No, I don't.'

'Oh, Anne!'

'I think, perhaps, he will, in time--in a way.'

'Do you think if I were very careful not to show I liked him it would bebetter?'

'No, there's only one chance for you.'

'What is it?'

'Keep on hammering.'

'_Indeed_ I shan't! I never heard of such a thing. I suppose you thinkthere's somebody else?' said Hyacinth, sitting up angrily.

'Oh, I daresay he's just finishing off with someone or other, and youmay catch him on the rebound.'

'What horrid things you say!'

'I only say what I think,' said Anne. 'Anyhow, you had a successtonight, I could see, because poor Charles seemed so depressed. Why doyou have all these electric lights burning when one lamp wouldbe enough?'

'Oh, go away, Anne, and don't bother,' said Hyacinth, laughing.

On his return home, Cecil suddenly felt a violent reaction in favour ofMrs Raymond. Certainly he had enjoyed his evening with Hyacinth, but itwas very bitter to him to think what pleasure that enjoyment would havegiven to Eugenia.... He began to think he couldn't live without her.Something must be done. Further efforts must be made. The idea struckhim that he would go and see his uncle, Lord Selsey, about it. He knewUncle Ted was really fond of him, and wouldn't like to see his liferuined (so he put it to himself), and his heart broken, though he alsoprobably would disapprove from the worldly point of view. Decidedlyunhappy, yet to a certain extent enjoying his misery, Cecil wentto sleep.

CHAPTER VIII

Lord Selsey

The mere thought of confiding in Lord Selsey was at once soothing andbracing. He was a widower with no children, and Cecil was by way ofbeing his heir. Since the death of his wife he lived in a kind ofcultured retirement in a large old house standing a little by itself inCambridge Gate. He used to declare that this situation combined all theadvantages of London and the country, also that the Park that was goodenough for the Regent was good enough for him. He had a decided cult forGeorge IV; and there was even more than a hint of Beau Brummel in hisdress. The only ugly thing in the house was a large coloured print ofthe pavilion at Brighton.

In many ways Lord Selsey was Cecil's model; and unconsciously, in hisuncle's suave presence, the young man's manner always became moreexpressive and his face more inscrutable.

Lord Selsey was remarkably handsome; the even profile, well-shaped head,and blond colouring were much the same in uncle and nephew, the uncle'sface having, perhaps, a more idealistic cast. The twenty years'difference in age had only given the elder man a finer, fairer, morefaded look, and the smooth light hair, still thick, was growing grey.

Cecil was not surprised to find his uncle sitting in his smoking-room,smoking, and not reading the morning paper. He was looking over hiscollection of old coins. At a glance he saw by Cecil's excessivequietness that the boy, as he called him, was perturbed, so he talkedabout the coins for some minutes.

Cecil made little attempt to conceal that fact that Things bored him.

'Well, what is it?' said Lord Selsey abruptly.

Cecil couldn't think of anything better by way of introducing thetrouble than the vaguely pessimistic statement that everything wasrather rotten.

'You don't gamble, you're not even very hard up.... It's a woman, ofcourse,' said Lord Selsey, 'and you want to marry, I suppose, or youwouldn't come to me about it.... Who is she?'

Cecil gave a rough yet iridescent sketch of Mrs Raymond.

'Of course she's older than I am, but it doesn't make the slightestdifference. She's been a widow ever since she was twenty. She's veryhard up, and she doesn't care. She's refused me, but I want to make hercome round.... No, she isn't _pretty_, not very.'

Lord Selsey put his old coins away, and leant back in his chair.

'I should like to see her,' he said thoughtfully.

'I'm sure of one thing, uncle you could never have any vulgar,commonplace ideas about her--I mean, she's so _peculiarly_disinterested, and all that sort of thing. You mustn't fancy she's adangerous syren, don't you know, or.... For instance, she doesn't caremuch for dress; she just sticks up her hair anyhow, and parts it inthe middle.'

'Then it would certainly be difficult to believe anything against her,'said Lord Selsey.

'Besides, she really wants me to marry someone else.'

'Who?'

'She's always trying to persuade me to propose to Hyacinth Verney ...you know, that pretty girl, old Cannon's ward.... She is awfully pretty,of course, I know.'

'I should like to see her,' said Lord Selsey.

Cecil smiled. It was well known that Lord Selsey was a collector. Thoughno-one could have less of the pompous, fatuous vanity of the Don Juan,beauty had always played, and always would play, a very prominent partin his life. It was, in fact, without exception, his greatest pleasure,and interest--even passion. The temperament that gave to beauty andcharm a rather inordinate value had, no doubt, descended to his nephew.But Cecil was, in that as in everything else, much less of a dilettante.

'You actually want me to advise you to persuade Mrs Raymond to marryyou? My dear boy, how can I?'

'How is it you don't say she's quite right not to?' asked Cecilcuriously.

'From her point of view I think she's quite wrong. As you're bothpractically free and you would marry her tomorrow--or this afternoon forchoice--if she cared for you she would probably do it. Where I thinkshe's wrong is in not caring for you.... Who is it?'

'I don't believe it's anyone. Eugenia's peculiar; she's veryindependent, very fantastic. She likes to do whatever comes into herhead. She's very fascinating ... but I shouldn't be at all surprised ifshe's absolutely cold; I mean, really never could care for any manat all.'

'I _should_ like to see her,' repeated Lord Selsey, his eyesbrightening.

'It's most awfully good of you, Uncle, the way you take it. I mean tosay, I'm afraid I'm not at all asking your consent, you know, oranything of that sort, as I ought.'

'You're asking my advice, and it's about the only thing most men of myage enjoy giving. Well, really, Cecil, and frankly, I think it's adismal little story. It would be humbug if I pretended I was sorry aboutMrs Raymond's--a--attitude, and I quite see its absolute genuinenessBut, if you'll excuse my saying so, what price the other girl?'

'What price? No price.'

'_She_ likes you,' said Lord Selsey acutely.

'What makes you think that?'

'Because otherwise you wouldn't be so cool about her. You're a littletoo frightened of being obvious, Cecil. I was like that, too. But don'tgive way to it. Hyacinth Verney--what a charming name! ... What wouldold Cannon say?'

'That's odd. Then he must be very ambitious for her, or else be in lovewith her himself ... probably both.'

'Oh, I say, Uncle Ted! Why, there's Lady Cannon! She's a very handsome,gigantic woman, and they have a daughter of their own, a girl calledElla, at school in Paris. She's pretty, too, only a flapper, you know,with a fair plait and a black bow.'

'I should like to see her; what delightful families you get yourselfmixed up with, Cecil! If I were you I should certainly cultivate theVerney girl. I know it's no use telling you to do the contrary, as Ishould if you weren't in your present frame of mind.'

'I should _very_ much like you to meet Eugenia,' said Cecil.

'Yes. How shall we arrange it? A dinner at the Savoy or something?'

'No. Somehow that isn't the kind of thing she'd like,' said Cecil.

'I thought not. But if I suddenly go and call on her, even with you,wouldn't it make it too much of a family affair? And I should be soafraid of having the air of trying to persuade her to give you up. Idon't want to make a fool of myself, you know.'

Cecil seemed a little stung, though he smiled.

'If she knew you, perhaps it would make her more interested in me!'

'Do you think she'd come and hear some music here,' said Lord Selsey,'if I wrote and asked her?'

'Yes, I think she might. There's no nonsense about her--about etiquetteand things of that sort, I mean.'

'Then that's settled. You tell her about it, and I'll write. On Thursdayafternoon. The two young pianists, George Ranger and Nevil Butt, arecoming, and the little girl, the new Russian singer.'

'A juvenile party?' asked Cecil, laughing.

'No, only two or three people.'

'Two or three hundred, I suppose. Well, I'll get Mrs Raymond to come.Thanks so much.'

They shook hands with more than cordiality. As Cecil went out his unclesaid--

'You've been most interesting this morning. But the other girl's theone, you know. Don't neglect her.'

He laughed, for he saw the young man was rather flattered at the notion.Evidently, Mrs Raymond was worth knowing.

CHAPTER IX

The Peculiarities of Raggett

'Oh, Bruce,' said Edith, as she looked up from a Sale Catalogue, 'I _do_wish you would be an angel and let me have a little cash to go to Naylorand Rope's. There are some marvellous bargains--spring novelties--there,and Archie absolutely _needs_ one or two things.'

Bruce frowned and sat down to breakfast, rather heavily.

'I object,' he said as he took his coffee, 'on principle--purely onprinciple--to spring sales. Women buy a lot of things they don't want,and ruin their husbands under the ridiculous impression they're buyingbargains.'

'I won't ruin you, dear. I want to get Archie a coat--and a hat. I onlywant'--she watched his expression--' a sovereign--or two.' She smiledbrightly, and passed him the toast.

His manner softened.

'Well, dear, you know I'm not a rich man, don't you?'

'Yes, dear.'

'But I should much prefer that you should get Archie's things at afirst-rate place like Wears and Swells, where we have an account, andsend me the bill. Will you do that?'

'Of course I will, if you like; but it'll cost more.'

She had often marvelled at a comparative lavishness about cheques thatBruce combined with a curious loathing to parting from any coin,however small.

'Then that's settled. And now I want to speak to you about Raggett.'

He paused, and then said seriously, 'I've absolutely decided and verynearly made up my mind to have Raggett to dinner tonight at the Savoy.'

'The Savoy?'

'Yes, yes; no doubt this little flat is very comfortable'--he lookedround the room with marked disdain--'and cook, thanks to you, isn't half_bad_ ... but one can't give _dinners_ here! And after all I've said toRaggett--oh, one thing and another--I fancy I've given him theimpression of a rather luxurious home. It won't matter if he calls herein the afternoon some day, but for a man like that, I'd rather--yes--theSavoy. You look as if you objected. Do you?'

'Not at all. It'll be rather fun. But I'm so glad you can afford it. Wehaven't an _account_ there, you know.'

'I propose to make a slight sacrifice for once.... I will engage a tableand telephone to Raggett. Women never understand that to do things well,once in a way, is sometimes a--a very good thing,' he finishedrather lamely.

'I don't think so. Why? You can wear what you wore last night.... Youlooked quite nice in it, and you can take it from me, once for all'--hegot up, looked in the glass, and said--'that _Raggett's all right_. Now,tell cook we're dining out. She might have a holiday tonight. A changemay do her good; and I shall hope to find the omelette less leatherytomorrow.'

Edith did not point out that Bruce, after specially ordering breakfastpunctually at nine, had come down at half-past ten.

'And now I must go.... The dinner was charming last night. It was onlyspoilt by that empty-headed fool--what's his name--Reeve, who wasobviously making up to Hyacinth. Anyone can see she only endures hisattentions from politeness, of course. He knows nothing about anything.I found _that_ out when we were smoking after dinner; and one can't geta word out of old Cannon.'

Edith was putting Bruce's writing-table in order when she found an openletter in the blotting-book, glanced at the signature, and saw that itwas from Raggett. So she eagerly read it, hoping to get some furtherlight on the mysterious man in whose honour Bruce was prepared to offerso extravagant a festivity.

It was written on a rough sheet of paper, with no address. Thehandwriting was small, compressed, and very untidy. It ran.--

'DEAR OTTLEY,

'Y'rs to hand. I shall be glad to dine with you, as I have told youseveral times, and I would accept your invitation with pleasure if Iknew when and where the dinner was to be. These two points you havealways avoided mentioning.

'Y'rs truly,

J.R. RAGGETT'

It struck Edith that it was quite extraordinary, after so manydescriptions from Bruce--some vivid, some sketchy, others subtlysuggestive--how little she could imagine Raggett.

Notwithstanding quantities of words, nothing, somehow, had ever come outto throw the least glimmer of light either on his character,personality, or walk of life. Not bad, all right, useful, ratherwonderful, but quite ordinary and nothing particular, were some of thephrases she recalled. She had never been told anything about his age,nor his appearance, nor how long Bruce had known him. She had onlygathered that he wasn't athletic like Goldthorpe (Bruce's golfcompanion), and that he wasn't in the Foreign Office, and didn't belongto Bruce's club. Where, how, and when could he be useful?

If she seemed bored when Bruce was enthusiastic about him, he wasoffended; but if she seemed interested and asked leading questions, hebecame touchy and cautious, almost jealous. Sometimes she had begun tothink that Raggett was a Mrs Harris--that there was no such person.There, evidently, she had been wrong.

At eight o'clock that evening, on arriving at the Savoy, Edith decidednot to take off her cloak (on the ground of chilliness, but reallybecause it was smarter and more becoming than her dress). Therefore shewaited in the outer room while Bruce, who seemed greatly excited, andhad given her various contradictory tips about how to behave to theirguest, was taking off his coat. Several other people were waiting there.She saw herself in the glass--a pretty, fair, typically English-lookingwoman, with neatly-chiselled features, well-arranged _blond-cendré_hair, a tall, slight figure, and a very thin neck. She noticed, amongthe other people waiting, a shabby-looking man of about thirty-five, wholooked so intensely uncomfortable that she pitied him. He had a vague,rough, drab beard, colourless hair, which was very thick in front andvery thin at the back, quite indefinite features, an undecidedexpression, and the most extraordinary clothes she had ever seen. Theshirt-front was soft, and was in large bulging pleats. He wore anabnormal-looking big black tie, and the rest of the costume suggested aconjurer who had arrived at a children's party in the country and hadforgotten his dress-suit, and borrowed various portions of it fromdifferent people staying in the house, who were either taller or shorterthan himself. The waistcoat ended too soon, and the coat began too late;the collar reminded one of Gladstone; while the buttonhole of orchids(placed, rather eccentrically, very low down on the coat) completed thegeneral effect of political broadmindedness, combined with acutesocial anxiety.

He looked several times at Edith with a furtive but undisguisedadmiration. Then Bruce appeared, held out his hand cordially, and said,'Ah, Raggett, here you are!'

CHAPTER X

A Musical Afternoon

Lord Selsey often said he disapproved of the ordinary subdivisions of ahouse, and, especially as he lived alone, he did not see why one shouldbreakfast in a breakfast-room, dine in a dining-room, draw in adrawing-room, and so on. Nevertheless, he had one special room formusic. There was a little platform at the end of it, and no curtains ordraperies of any kind to obscure or stifle sound. A frieze of Greekfigures playing various instruments ran round the walls, which wereperfectly plain so that nothing should distract the eye from thepleasures of the ear; but he was careful to avoid that look of aconcert-room given by rows of chairs (suggesting restraint and reservedguinea seats), and the music-room was furnished with comfortable loungesand led into a hall containing small Empire sofas, in which not morethan two persons could be seated. Therefore the audience at hisentertainments often enjoyed themselves almost as much as theperformers, which is rare.

This afternoon there was the usual number of very tall women in largehighly-decorated hats, smooth-haired young men in coats that went in atthe waist, a very few serious amateurs with longish hair, whoseappearance did not quite come up to the standard of the _Tailor andCutter_, and a small number of wistful professional feminine artists inno collars and pince-nez--in fact, the average fashionable, artisticcrowd. The two young geniuses, George Ranger and Nevil Butt, had justgiven their rather electrifying performance, one playing thecompositions of the other, and then both singing Fauré together, and asmall band of Green Bulgarians were now playing strenuously a symphonyof Richard Strauss, when Cecil and Mrs Raymond appeared together. LordSelsey received her as if she had been an old friend. When they shookhands they felt at once, after one glance at Cecil and then at eachother, that they were more than friends--they were almost accomplices.

By one of those fortunate social accidents that are always occurring inLondon, Lord Selsey had met Hyacinth and Anne Yeo at a party the daybefore, had been introduced to them, and invited them to hear Ranger andButt. Hyacinth, aware she was to meet Mrs Raymond, wore her loveliestclothes and sweetest expression, though she could not keep out of hereyes a certain anxiety, especially when she saw that Cecil greeted herwith a slight, cold embarrassment that was very different from his usualmanner. He had not expected to meet Hyacinth, and resolved to avoid theintroduction he knew she desired. But no man is a match for a woman in adetail of this sort. In the refreshment-room, where Cecil was pressingcoffee on Mrs Raymond, Hyacinth walked in, accompanied by Anne, andstood not very far from him. He came up to her, as Hyacinth saw, at MrsRaymond's instigation.

'Can I get you anything, Miss Vemey? Some tea?'

'Thanks, yes. Isn't that Mrs Raymond? I do wish you would introduce meto her.'

Mrs Raymond came forward. Cecil murmured their names. They shook hands.Mrs Raymond looked at her with such impulsive admiration that shedropped a piece of cake. They spoke a few words about the music, andCecil moved aside.

Anne called him back, not wishing to see him spared anything.

'You mustn't,' said Cecil, 'on any account miss the next thing. It isthe wonderful new singer, don't you know--the little girl, VeraSchakoffsky.'

'Oh, very well,' said Hyacinth. 'I'll go,' and she went on with Anne.But when they had returned to the music-room she said to Anne, 'I leftmy handkerchief,' and went back to the refreshment-room.

A screen was by the door. Just before she had passed it she heard MrsRaymond say--

'What an angel! How can you not be at her feet? Go and talk to her atonce, or I'll never speak to you again!'

'I just shan't!' said Cecil doggedly. 'You make me simply ridiculous. Ifyou won't be nice to me yourself, you needn't throw me at the head ofother people.'

Hyacinth turned back and went to the music-room again.

Some time afterwards Cecil joined her, Mrs Raymond having apparentlydisappeared. The new tenor was singing an old song. Cecil sat down nextto Hyacinth on a little Empire sofa.

'Let me look at the programme,' he said. And as he took it from her hepressed her fingers. She snatched her hand angrily away.

'Pray don't do that,' she said in a contemptuous tone. 'Even to obey MrsRaymond, you needn't do violence to your feelings!'

'Miss Verney! I beg your pardon! But what _do_ you mean?'

'Surely you understand. And don't trouble to come and see me any more.'

He looked at her. Her suave social dexterity had vanished. Her eyes weredark with purely human instinctive jealousy. They looked at each other amoment, then Lord Selsey came up and said--

'I'm afraid my attempt at originality hasn't been quite a success. Theconcert's not as harmonious as I hoped. Come and have tea, Miss Verney.'

Hyacinth did not speak a word to Anne on their way home, nor did sherefer to the afternoon, nor answer any remark of Anne's on the subjecttill that evening, when Anne came into her room to complain of theelectric light and make fun of Lord Selsey's guests. Then she foundHyacinth sobbing, and saying--

'I shall get over it. I shall be all right tomorrow. I'm going to cuthim out of my life!'

'He'll soon cut in again,' said Anne.

'Indeed he won't! I'm not going to be played with. Preferring an oldJapanese who doesn't even _like_ him, and then making a fool of me!'

'If she ran after him, and you begged him to stick to her, it would bethe other way,' said Anne.

'What do you mean? Hasn't he any real preference?'

'Yes. He's attached to her, fond of her. She's utterly indifferent abouthim, so he's piqued. So he thinks that's being in love.'

'Then why does he try to deceive me and flirt with me at all?'

'He doesn't. You really attract him; you're suited to him physically andsocially, perhaps mentally too. The suitability is so obvious that hedoesn't like it. It's his feeling for you that he fights against, andespecially because he sees you care for him.'

'I was horrid enough to him today! I told him never to call here again.'

'To show your indifference?'

'I made him understand that I wanted no more of his silly flirtation,'said Hyacinth, still tearful.

'If you _really_ made him think that, everything will be all right.'

'Really, Anne, you're clever. I think I shall take your advice.'

Anne gave a queer laugh.

'I didn't know I'd given any, but I will. Whatever he does now, leavehim alone!'

'I should think so! Then why did you tell me the other day to keep onhammering?'

'I was quite right the other day.'

'Didn't I look nicer than Mrs Raymond?'

'That's not the point. You talk as if you were rivals on the sameplatform. She's on a different plane. But he'll get tired in the end ofher indifference and remember _you_,' added Anne sardonically.

'Then he'll find I've forgotten _him_. Oh, why am I so unhappy?'

'You're too emotional, but you'll be happy through that too. Pleasedon't make your eyes red. There are other people in the world.Cecil Reeve--'

'Bosh!' said Anne. 'He's exactly like thousands of other young men. Butit just happens you've taken a fancy to him; that's the only thing thatmakes him different.'

'I hate him,' said Hyacinth. 'Do you dislike him, Anne?'

'Dislike him?' said Anne, turning out one of the lights. 'No, indeed! Iloathe him!'

'But why?'

Anne went to the door.

'Because you're a fool about him,' she said somewhat cryptically.

Hyacinth felt somewhat soothed, and resolved to think no more of CecilReeve. She then turned up the light again, took her writing materials,and wrote him three long letters, each of which she tore up. She thenwrote once more, saying--

'DEAR MR REEVE,

'I shall be at home today at four. Do come round and see me.'

She put it under her pillow, resolving to send it by a messenger thefirst thing in the morning, and went to sleep.

But this letter, like the others, was never sent. By the morning lightshe marvelled at having written it, and threw it into the fire.

'West Kensington. It's off the map. I'm not an explorer--I don't pretendto be.' He paused a moment, then went on, 'And it's not only thefrightful distance and the expense of getting there, but when I do getthere.... Do you consider that my people treat me with properdeference?'